


Mind over Matter

by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), peachybitters



Series: Star Wars Discipline Fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Caning, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Headaches, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), No Qui-Gon bashing, Non-Sexual Spanking, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Parental Qui-Gon, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Sickfic, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachybitters/pseuds/Peach_Bitters, https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachybitters/pseuds/peachybitters
Summary: When Obi-Wan attempts to hide an illness during a mission he must answer to his master for his dishonesty. Contains corporal punishment of a young adult. Please read the tags and author's notes before deciding if you'd like to read.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Star Wars Discipline Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208738
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46





	Mind over Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned: this story contains a scene of moderately severe corporal punishment of an adult Padawan in a sci-fi/fantasy setting. Nothing gruesome, but it may be disturbing to some, so if it's not your thing my feelings won't be hurt if you skip this one. I hope everyone else enjoys, and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

_ Deep breath in deep breath out. _ Obi-Wan repeated the rhythm. His head was pounding. At the front of the room at their podiums, two politicians were squabbling going round and round in a circular debate. Obi-Wan wished desperately that Qui-Gon would step in and stop it, but his master just stood silently watching and listening. Ever patient.

They’d been on Alagua for a couple days now, ostensibly to counsel the Alaguans while they elected a new Senator, but there were still some amongst the high ranking politicians who expressed favor in breaking away from the Republic entirely. Qui-Gon thought this was no more than posturing, but whatever it was, it was not helping the mission along. 

It did not help that Obi-Wan’s head had hurt almost since they got here. It was nothing unusual; he often felt a bit unwell traveling offworld. Changes in air pressure, foreign pollen and particles, small gravitational differences could all wreak minor havoc on one’s system. The standard painkillers he’d taken earlier in the day had done little for him. He’d just have to push through. Qui-Gon had told him he’d eventually adapt to all such changes as he traveled more and more, but Obi-Wan wondered just how long it would take. It did not help that the Alaguans were apparently a people who did not believe in air conditioning, and it was the height of summer. Obi-Wan wished he had not worn so heavy a robe to this planet.

Finally, the committee meeting adjourned. The two Jedi stood against the wall in the back, watching the crowd mill around and eventually filter out. For the most part, they’d been given a wide berth on this mission; only four of the ten ruling elders of the planet had been glad to have Jedi present. A few were distrustful and the rest indifferent. Alagua had only been part of the Republic for a hundred years or so, and had not had much prior contact with Jedi. Obi-Wan wondered how much good they’d really do.

“I’m beginning to think at least half of being a Jedi is standing around looking serious,” he said to Qui-Gon when they were more or less alone. He’d meant it as a small joke to help distract himself from his headache, but really he should have known better.

“I sensed a lack of focus from you this afternoon,” Qui-Gon said pointedly.

“I was paying attention, Master,” Obi-Wan argued. 

“Who was the representative who spoke about the increased tariffs on mineral imports?” Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan remained silent. Perhaps he’d not been paying as much attention as he’d thought. It was a small, probably insignificant detail, but he was trained and expected to absorb everything, and be ready with answers if his master asked.

“I expect better from you,” Qui-Gon said, moving out into the hall. Obi-Wan followed, his head throbbing now.

“Sorry, Master.”

“I want you to go to the gardens and get some fresh air.”

“But we have an audience with the Council of Elders in a minute,” Obi-Wan protested. He’d been looking forward to this, as they’d likely be actually talking about the situation with people of influence and not just standing around.

“I’ll brief you later,” Qui-Gon said. “You won’t be much use if your head isn’t clear.”

“But I can-”

Qui-Gon cut him off, finally sounding exasperated. “I’m not arguing with you, Obi-Wan. I can feel your headache through the Force. You need to go take care of it.”

Without another word, Obi-Wan spun around and stalked off, finding the door that led outside into the palace gardens. Why would Qui-Gon tell him he expected better from him and then not even give him a chance to do better, to overcome?

He moved outside and into the gardens, inhaling the sweet, spicy scent of Alagua in the summer. It felt a bit cooler out here, and Obi-Wan couldn’t deny the peacefulness was nice. Fan-like plants with large pink flowers hung over winding pathways. Falling water could be heard in the distance. Obi-Wan made his way through the gardens to the large fountain in the center, and sat down on the edge, thinking.

Again, he’d let Qui-Gon down. He seemed to be good at that, lately. Shortly before this mission, he’s argued fiercely with his master about not being allowed to compete in the yearly Temple senior Padawan lightsaber tournament. Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan was getting too competitive and needed to keep his focus on diplomatic studies. He had, eventually and a little surprisingly, conceded and let him participate, though he’d not been happy about it and hadn’t even gone to watch. Maybe it was for the best. Obi-Wan had come in seventh place, worse than the year before. The whole affair had left him feeling sour and even more a disappointment.

He certainly wasn’t making himself look better on this mission. What was wrong with him? Even a junior Padawan could get details from a meeting right, and wouldn’t let a simple thing like a headache distract them. For such a dull mission, things felt hard.

He tried to clear his mind as Qui-Gon often told him to do. Just focus on something else, something small. Several little rust colored lizards had begun to scamper in and out of the bushes around the fountain, their quick movements almost seeming playful. Obi-Wan decided to try something. He enjoyed calling animals with the Force, but hadn’t had an opportunity in a while. Calming himself even further, he reached out toward them, probing their small minds, beckoning them. Just a couple lizards stopped their movement, and stood as if in contemplation.

Come here, Obi-Wan thought. I won’t hurt you.

Only one lizard began to approach him, and Obi-Wan focused all his attention on it.

_ That’s right. I won’t hurt you. _

He put his hand down, beckoning the little creature to jump on it, and was pleased when it hopped right onto his hand. He slowly lifted it up toward his face, admiring it more closely. Staring into its little black beady eye..

Then in one quick movement it was gone.

Obi-wan had become startled. His right hand, which had been resting on the edge of the fountain, now stung painfully. He whipped around to see another one of the lizards gripping the skin of his hand.

“Get off,” he yelled reflexively, flicking it away. It scurried into the brush.

He studied his right hand carefully. The lizard had left a tiny pair of puncture marks from its fangs. Two little beads of blood had formed on the skin of his hand, but it didn’t hurt much. Obi-Wan took out his med kit, cursing himself for not paying more attention. What was wrong with him today? Qui-Gon was always telling him to be mindful of his surroundings, to pay attention to everything around him. He should have noticed, and been ready.

He did a quick toxin scan on the bite and the readings came up minimal. From his research, he’d gathered that Alagua did not have many lifeforms that were poisonous to humans. That would be the last thing he needed now. Obi-Wan cleaned the wound and applied some bacta ointment, then decided to continue with his walk.

Under the shade of a large tree, he threw off his hot cloak and ran through lightsaber drills until his mind was clear and sharp once again.

* * *

The next day did not start off well. Obi-Wan awoke before dawn with an acute nausea, and his headache had not gone away. He went to the ‘fresher and splashed some cold water on his face, again practicing his breathing exercises, drawing on the Force. The nausea lessened somewhat after a few breaths, but the headache remained.

After dressing, he stepped out onto the balcony of the suite he and Qui-Gon had been given for their stay. 

_ Keep it together, Kenobi. _

He would not have a repeat of yesterday. He was not going to be banished again from the proceedings because his body wouldn’t cooperate. Obi-Wan wasn’t proficient in self-healing techniques, but he had learned a little. This would be a good opportunity to practice and hone his skills.

Mustering all his strength and connection to the Force, he put himself into a light healing trance, letting the Force dull his symptoms. It wasn’t the same as getting to the root of the issue, but it would do.

“Padawan?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned to see Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. “Good morning, Master.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your meditation but we’ve been requested downstairs. The delegation from Sheeris has arrived.”

Obi-Wan nodded, grateful that he’d thought to try the healing trance. It would make the morning’s proceedings much more bearable.

“How’s your head?” Qui-Gon asked, as they left their chambers. “Any better?”

“Quite a lot,” Obi-Wan said, hoping that would be enough for Qui-Gon to change the subject.

“You feel well? Anything else?” 

Force, he was being nosey. Obi-Wan tightened his mental shields, hoping his master wouldn’t feel his annoyance. Briefly he thought about mentioning the lizard bite from the other day. Technically, he was required to inform his master or any injury he suffered in the field, especially pertaining to local flora and fauna. But, his finger was more or less healed due to the bacta. It seemed a moot point now.

“No, Master. I am well.” He forced a smile.

“Good,” Qui-God said, and thankfully started discussing Alaguan politics again. Obi-Wan removed his focus from his health to more important matters.

* * *

Why did banquets have to be so  _ loud _ ?

All around him at the long table was chatter and noise. Obi-Wan picked at his food, hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t notice how little he’d eaten. Fortunately, his master had finished his own plate and had moved across the room to mingle with the Sheerin representatives, leaving Obi-Wan to battle his headache and nausea once again. There was a cold sweat now, too - quite unpleasant. It was definitely time for another healing trance. He stole a look at Qui-Gon, who had his back to the banquet table and probably wouldn't notice if Obi-Wan snuck out for a few moments. He rose quickly from his chair and fled out of the banquet hall, making his way through the palace’s more deserted corridors until he came upon a small, closed in garden. Gratefully, Obi-Wan took a seat on a stone bench and lost himself in the Force.

This time it took noticeably longer for his symptoms to start to dissipate. Obi-wan sighed with frustration. He needed to get back or Qui-Gon would start wondering where he had disappeared to. Still nursing a slight headache and upset stomach, he headed back to the dining hall, clinging to the hope that all he needed was a good night’s sleep.

* * *

“Padawan?”

“Mmph…” Obi-Wan opened his eyes, rolling over in his bed. It took him a moment to realize Qui-Gon was standing in the doorway. He sat up, foggy headed and achy.

“What time is it, Master?”

“It’s a quarter past eight. I didn’t think you’d still be in bed. You didn’t sample the wine last night, did you?” Qui-Gon said that last part with an air of amusement, but Obi-Wan didn’t find it funny. Sleeping so late on a mission didn’t make one look good. Even at the Temple, he normally rose before dawn.

“No, Master. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I slept so long.” Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, pushing the blankets aside.

“You still feel well?”

Obi-Wan wished he would stop asking that. “Yes, Master, I’m well.”

“Well, since we have nothing scheduled til this afternoon, I reserved the palace gymnasium for us to do some drills and perhaps some sparring for a couple of hours.”

The last thing Obi-Wan wanted to do was spar. But maybe if he did another healing trance, he would feel strong enough. “Yes, Master. Might I meet you there? I’d like to do some meditation first.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “The palace staff is waiting to clean our room. You can meditate in the gym. Get dressed and let’s go.”

Blast. There would be no arguing. He couldn’t take the chance that Qui-Gon would pick up on him going into a trance, even a light one, instead of his normal meditation. He’d have to keep powering through.

When they got to the gym, Obi-Wan did his normal meditation, hoping and praying that drawing peace from the Force would be enough to steady him and getting through what was sure to be an intense sparring session with his master. First, of course, he would have to get through the drills, which would be difficult enough.

“I want to see the third kata again,” Qui-Gon said after watching Obi-Wan go through his cadences. “You keep letting your stance get too wide.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan ground out, only because it was the only acceptable response. Too wide, too narrow. It was never right. And it wasn’t likely to get better today. He took a deep breath, letting the Force flow through him. At least the movement was something of a distraction from the aches in his body. Somehow, at the end, Qui-Gon looked pleased. It was a miracle.

“Better. All right, that’s enough drills I think. Ready for a match?”

Not exactly. But he wasn’t going to quit while he was ahead. Obi-Wan managed a smile and they faced off, focused only on one another and the crashing of their blades. Ataru was a demanding style even at the best of times. They leapt and flipped and Obi-Wan tried not to think about the energy draining out of him at an alarming rate. My strength comes from the Force, he told himself fiercely. 

Evidently, though, the Force had other places to be. The room spun and became a blur.

“Padawan?” He heard Qui-Gon say. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said. And then it all went black.

* * *

He came to with a start. His heart was pounding. No pain though. That was good.

“What happened? Master, what happened?”

“Easy.” Qui-Gon’s hand rested gently on his chest.

“Where am I?”

“The palace’s healing center. Do you remember fainting in the gymnasium?”

“No.” Faint? Jedi didn’t faint. Even Padawans.

“Well, you did. Yesterday morning.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, and Qui-Gon answered his question without him having to ask it.

“It’s evening now. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for approximately thirty-six hours.”

“But, why?” Obi-Wan asked, gripping the bedcovers in both hands.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. “You tell me. Apparently you had high levels of a native bacteria in your system. It’s primarily spread to humans through the bite of Alaguan reptiles.”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan rested his head back down on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.. “I’ll be all right though, won’t I?”

“Yes. The toxins have been flushed from your system thanks to the skilled healers here. You’ll be weak for a day or so while your body recovers.”

“Thank the Force,” Obi-Wan sighed with relief that would prove to be short-lived. 

“And now, my young Padawan, you’ll answer a few of  _ my _ questions.” Qui-Gon’s voice had taken on an edge. Obi-Wan made himself look over at him.

“Were you bitten by anything on this planet?”

“Yes, Master. A very small lizard in the gardens. Very small. I thought-”

“You didn’t tell me,” Qui-Gon said.

“It was a very small bite,” Obi-Wan said. “I treated it -”

“You still have an obligation to tell me,” Qui-Gon growled. “This is even in the Code, which you, of all people, ought to have remembered.”

It was true. A padawan had a duty to tell his master of any injury, even minor, sustained while on a mission. Somehow, he had allowed himself to shrug it off. Obi-Wan tried to sink back further into his pillows.  _ At least he can’t kill me in a healing center. _

“When were you bitten?” Qui-Gon asked. He had sat back in his chair, now fixing Obi-Wan with a scrutinizing gaze.

“The afternoon before yesterday,” Obi-Wan said, feeling like a suspect being interrogated in a prison cell.

“And you weren't feeling ill.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, twisting the covers a bit as he spoke. “I was, but…”

“But what?” Qui-Gon snapped.

“I used some healing trances to improve my symptoms.”

Qui-Gon blinked at him. “And what does my padawan know of healing trances?”

“Admittedly, not much. But they did help. A bit.”

A brusque, mirthless laugh cracked Qui-Gon’s Jedi serenity then. “Apparently they did not. I suspect you only fooled your body into ignoring the effects of the toxins. I suspect you made it very much  _ worse _ , in fact.”

Obi-Wan had no idea how to respond to that. His mouth was very dry. Whether from the illness or nerves, he didn’t know. He watched Qui-Gon grasp the ends of his chair’s arm rests quite firmly, then release them. Force, but he looked livid. Even if it was the controlled, disciplined anger of a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan could still feel it hot and rippling in the aether between them.

Time to start damage control.

“Forgive me, Master. That was quite foolish of me.”

“Foolish,” Qui-Gon echoed softly, looking away now. “Now that’s an understatement.”

Obi-Wan’s cheeks burned. What an idiot he was.

Qui-Gon directed another sharp look his way. “Our mission here should be concluding soon. In the meantime I’m relieving you of the rest of your duties here. You’re to spend the time resting and reflecting on your choices of the past couple days. I can assure you that we will be having a very thorough discussion about this when we get back to the Temple, so prepare yourself for that.”

“Yes, Master.”

Qui-Gon nodded once, and stood from his chair. “I must be leaving now. You will do exactly as the healers here tell you, and you will not take your health into your own hands at any point. Is that understood, young man?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. His master had not addressed him as ‘young man’ in quite a while. It didn’t usually bode well.

“Yes, Master,” he whispered hoarsely. He was no longer able to meet Qui-Gon’s eyes.

A woman, presumably a healer, came striding into the room then and Obi-Wan was grateful for the distraction.

“Finally awake!” She snapped, glaring down at her datapad. “About time.” 

Obi-Wan wondered if he was in for a scolding from her as well.

Qui-Gon turned to leave, but then turned back and fixed Obi-Wan with an inscrutable expression. Stern, perhaps. But sad as well.

“I was quite worried about you,” he said simply. Then he was gone, leaving Obi-Wan alone with the healer and his regrets.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood in front of Qui-Gon’s door, attempting for the third time to adequately calm his nerves. He looked up and down the corridor. Fortunately, it was empty. If anyone saw him right now, they’d no doubt wonder what he was doing.

And what was he afraid of? That his master was disappointed in him? He already knew that. Better just to go in, admit fault and get it over with.

He’d tried to apologize again on the trip back to Coruscant the day before, but Qui-Gon had only brushed it off, saying they’d discuss it later, then withdrawn into his starship cabin to meditate. Obi-Wan had done the same, though focus had been hard for him. The thing was, he’d done some silly things before, had gotten his master annoyed with him, but he’d been much younger then. He was eighteen now, and should have known better.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the door controls and walked in. There was something about Qui-Gon’s quarters that always calmed him, even at a time like this. The fresh, sweet fragrance of the plants Qui-Gon kept lingered in the air. It always felt welcoming. Even now. Obi-Wan removed his robe and hung it on its customary place before coming to stand in front of his master, who was seated on his meditation pad in the center of the room. He made a deep bow. This was a more formal gesture than Qui-Gon normally required of him, but Obi-Wan supposed if there was occasion for one, it was now.

“Remove your saber belt, please, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said calmly.

Obi-Wan shuddered a little, though he wasn’t surprised by the command. A padawan expected to be asked to remove weapons and equipment when answering for a serious misdeed, as an expression of humility. Well, Obi-Wan felt quite humbled. He obeyed, unfastening the thick belt and laying it on a nearby chair. His lightsaber he placed on a pair of hooks on the wall, underneath Qui-Gon’s. Then he stood in front of his master, awaiting direction.

“Sit down,” Qui-Gon said, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He looked a little tired, as if looking forward to the conversation about as much as Obi-Wan. Still, he didn’t waste time getting to the point.

“First of all, I think I owe you an apology.”

Obi-Wan had been looking down at his hands, but he looked up suddenly, surprised. What could his master possibly have to apologize to him for?

“I was short with you when you lost focus because of your headache. I ought to have been more compassionate and helpful, but instead I was dismissive.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head again, now feeling worse somehow. Of course Qui-Gon cared about him, yet he’d continued to lie and deceive. “no , Master. The fault is all mine.”

“We will talk about your faults in a moment,” Qui-Gon said sternly. “I do have some faults here. And I cannot in good conscience discipline you until I come face to face with my own shortcomings.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan conceded.

“Very well. Now, since you’re so eager to admit fault, please tell me what they were.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. As guilty as he felt, saying what he’d done out loud was still painful. “I didn’t want to trouble you, so-”

Qui-Gon held up his hand. “No. Don’t make this about me.”

He frowned. Qui-Gon was right. He was thinking about this in the wrong way. “I wanted you to think I could do a good job, and that I could handle my own problems.”

“We all want our mentors to think well of us,” Qui-Gon said, a little more gently. “But we cannot let our feelings get in the way of doing our duty. You know this, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan felt a tightness in his throat, and swallowed hard to try and release it. He may have been eighteen, but he felt about eight.

Qui-Gon grew stern again. “Let’s not mince words. You let your pride guide your actions. You lied to me several times and you neglected your own health. This is inexcusable.”

“I’m sorry, Master. You’re right. I have no excuse for my behavior.”

“Very well.” Qui-Gon studied him for a moment. “I think you understand that I will need to punish you.”

Obi-Wan nodded, miserable. He thought he picked up a note of regret in Qui-Gon’s voice that did not make him feel better. His master had never punished him lightly, usually preferring lessons and exercises to teach and enforce discipline, but when he did feel that punishment was needed, he had always been quite  _ thorough _ .

“I am going to spank you, then you will receive six strokes of the cane,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan looked up sharply. He had expected physical punishment for what he’d done, but Qui-Gon had only caned him once before, and that had not been on top of a spanking.

“Tell me now if you consider this to be excessive,” Qui-Gon said.

“N-no, Master.” Did it sound very unpleasant? Yes, of course. But he had been dishonest. And he had worried his master with his foolish pride. He couldn’t in good conscience claim that it was an excessive or cruel punishment.

“Come here, then,” Qui-Gon commanded. There was a sigh in his voice

Obi-Wan stood and stepped over to where his master sat and began to untie the drawstring of his trousers without being told. Formal punishments were always given on the bare bottom and there was no use trying to argue about it. When he had pushed down his trousers and underwear he lowered himself over Qui-Gon’s lap without looking him in the face.

Qui-Gon lifted the back of his tunic up over his exposed bottom and Obi-Wan tried to relax and accept his unhappy position.

“Please tell me why this is necessary, Padawan.” Qui-Gon said, resting his hand firmly on Obi-Wan’s back.

“I hid the truth from you,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing. “About my health.”

He winced as his master’s hand cracked down on the right side of his bottom.

“You hid the truth, and you also lied directly to me,” Qui-Gon said, following this statement with another few firm swats. The words stung almost as much as his hand. Obi-Wan tried to shift a bit to distract himself from the discomfort, but Qui-Gon held him tightly in place and continued. “You lied to yourself, I think, as well. and in a way this is worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan told him, though this was addressed to the carpet below. His bottom was starting to burn now, but he knew Qui-Gon was nowhere near done with him.

“I should hope so. Lying to oneself presents grave dangers and pitfalls, especially for a Jedi. If you cannot accept the light of truth in your own affairs, how can you follow it in the world outside yourself?”

“You - you can’t,” Obi-Wan panted, trying not to strain against Qui-Gon’s grip. Where did his master learn to smack so hard, he’d always wondered. Even though he’d been trained from an early age to control his instinctual fear of pain, he still found it a challenge to accept it once he was in the middle of a spanking. His body wanted to kick and squirm away even if his mind knew he’d brought the punishment on himself.

“Ah -ow,” he whimpered, hoping that Qui-Gon would not find it disrespectful, like he was complaining. He hoped his master could sense that he agreed with the punishment even if he lacked the discipline to accept it with grace.

Qui-Gon halted his lecture then and was able to focus all his energy into spanking Obi-Wan’s unfortunate backside, and the burning slaps came hard and fast, mostly concentrated on his lower bottom.

It was getting harder to hold back. “Ouch! I really am sorry…” Obi-Wan exclaimed, pointlessly he knew. Qui-Gon knew he was sorry, and he would be done when he was done.

“I know.” Qui-Gon ended his volley with a few more hard swats and Obi-Wan relaxed across his knees, taking deep breaths to steady himself. Qui-Gon rubbed circles on his back, which normally comforted him. But he knew he couldn’t allow himself to feel entirely soothed with the caning he had coming.

Qui-Gon patted his shoulder after a moment. “Stand up.”

Obi-Wan obeyed, and tried not to wince as his tunic fell back down and brushed against his sore and still burning backside. If he were littler he might have stolen a quick rub, but these days he knew better.

Qui-Gon stood up as well and looked at him seriously. “I want you to go to the corner and take a few minutes to refocus on why we are doing this. Think especially on how you broke the Code. I think this is an especially good time for you to reflect on how breaking the Code as you did might endanger a mission and your own life.”

Obi-Wan nodded miserably and began to pull his trousers back up but Qui-Gon put his hands on his shoulders to stop him and addressed him sternly. “No need to pull them up. Your punishment isn’t over yet.”

His chest tight, Obi-Wan retreated to the corner, grateful that his tunic was long enough to at least cover his bottom. Standing in the corner was shameful enough as it was. It was normally not part of his spankings, but he supposed Qui-Gon needed a place to put him while he fetched the cane. Better than making him fetch it himself.

As much as he didn’t want to, Obi-Wan forced himself to think about his breaking the Code. Up til now, he’d avoided thinking too much about it. At the time, it had just seemed like bending it a little, for convenience. 

Perhaps Obi-Wan had hoped for a little leeway on this. After all, Qui-Gon himself was not always a believer in following the Code to the letter. Nevertheless, he  _ was _ a big believer in the parts concerning safety and personal diligence, had never wavered in his expectations for his Padawan to follow those.

And he  _ was _ right in this instance. Breaking the Code in that instance had rendered Obi-Wan incapable of performing his duties, in the end. If he’d just told Qui-Gon about the stupid bite from the beginning he wouldn’t have been allowed to grow as sick as he had.

“All right, Padawan,” he heard Qui-Gon say from behind him. “Let’s finish this.”

Obi-Wan went to meet him, his head bowed, but he took a glance at the thin, flexible rod in Qui-Gon’s hand. His bottom clenched involuntarily. 

“Like last time, Obi-Wan. Bend over and put your hands on the seat there.”

Obi-Wan bent over and placed his palms on the seat where Qui-Gon had sat a moment ago. He took a deep breath, in and out, as his master lifted the back of his tunics again and placed the cane across his bottom.

“What did you reflect on in the corner?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I broke part of the Code,” Obi-Wan said. “The part about telling my master if I sustained an injury. I didn’t tell you.”

He heard the cane  _ whoosh _ through the air and then there was a line of stinging pain across the center of his bottom which after a moment intensified into a white hot fire. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath and tried not to bounce in place.

“That is correct. But remember this. We do not follow the Code just because it is the Code. What is in the Code is there because it is useful to the members of Order. It is not applicable to every circumstance a Jedi might find himself in, but it does not do us any good to break it just because it goes against our personal wishes.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, preparing himself for more strokes.

He didn’t have to wait long. The cane whipped through the air again and the stroke landed close below the last. Obi-Wan bit his lip, not able to resist bouncing a bit this time as if he could shake away the pain.

“I know this hurts, but I would rather be thorough now than have to repeat this discussion,” Qui-Gon said.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. Tears were pricking at his eyes and it was getting hard to talk. 

“You will not trivialize your health,” Qui-Gon said, sounding almost as stern as he had in the infirmary on Alagua. He swung the cane and left another burning stripe on Obi-Wan’s bottom. Obi-Wan’s vision went blurry with the tears that began to drip down onto the seat below.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, a sob creeping into his voice despite his best efforts.

“But you did,” Qui-Gon said tersely. “And you will be more mindful of that in the future.”

Obi-Wan shuddered, bracing himself for another stroke, but it didn’t come.

“Calm yourself and refocus,” Qui-Gon said in a gentler tone. “We’re halfway done.”

Obi-Wan sniffled and forced himself to take some deep breaths. He’d thought his bottom was on fire after his spanking but that was nothing compared to this. He despaired of sitting down the rest of the evening.

“All right,” Qui-Gon said after a few moments. “Three more.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now I want to address your attempt at a healing trance. We’ve been over you using advanced techniques without a teacher’s oversight.”

“I thought I knew what I was doing,” Obi-Wan said quietly, then flinched as the cane made contact again. “I was wrong, Master. It was arrogance.”

“Arrogance has cost too many Jedi their lives, Obi-Wan. Be mindful of that.”

Another burning stripe. Obi-Wan just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The last painful stroke came soon after. Obi-Wan heard himself release a quiet sob and felt a fresh wave of tears begin to run down his face. 

He heard Qui-Gon drop the cane to the floor and then felt his master’s hand on his back. “Come on, stand up now. It’s over.”

Sniffling, Obi-Wan stood slowly and made himself face his master. Qui-Gon put his hands on his shoulders and squeezed them gently. “That was difficult, but you took it well. And now you will move forward.”

Obi-Wan nodded, still unable to meet his master’s gaze. He wiped his face with his sleeves, feeling a terrible mess. “I’m sorry my behavior required you to do that, Master.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon sighed, then pulled his apprentice into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry me like that again.”

Obi-Wan rested his head against Qui-Gon’s shoulder, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and pleasure. Qui-Gon had never been the most open of mentors and did not often share his personal feelings. He was, however, deeply honest. And his honesty could leave Obi-Wan feeling exalted as much as chastened.

Qui-Gon released him after a moment and Obi-Wan found he was now able to look him in the eye. 

“You may have a ways to go yet, Padawan, and you will make mistakes,” Qui-Gon said. “But know that I’m very pleased with the progress you’ve made as my apprentice.”

“Thank you, Master. I’m grateful for your training.”  _ Even when it can really hurt, _ he thought to himself.

Qui-Gon brushed the side of Obi-Wan’s face lightly. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

“I can do it, Master,” Obi-Wan offered.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Take a few moments to relax and clear your mind.” He gave Obi-Wan a pat on the shoulder. “You can pull your trousers up now.”

"Oh." Embarrassed, Obi-Wan quickly -but gingerly -pulled his underwear and pants back up and straightened out his tunics as Qui-Gon disappeared into the kitchen. The cane lay abandoned on the floor, looking harmless. Obi-Wan made himself pick it up. It was so light, almost like nothing. It was hard to believe it could hurt so much. Would he ever use one of these on his own apprentice one day, he wondered? With any hope, he wouldn't have a padawan as remotely stubborn and headstrong as he was.

He shook his head, putting the can back down and willing himself back into the here and now. Like Qui-Gon had said, he still had far to go. Better to focus on surviving his own apprenticeship than worry about what would come after.

  
  



End file.
